There's No Such Thing As Magic!
by TheImmortalMarauder
Summary: The Doctor is drawn to an unknown world, to fight a battle alongside the greatest witches and wizards of all time – but how much will it take for him to believe in magic? Harry, Ron and Hermione will soon find out.
1. Prologue

**A/N:**

I've deleted my other story until further notice (sorry, I'm starting it over).

So this is an experimental Doctor Who/Harry Potter crossover, with this prologue set between _The Runaway Bride_ and _Smith And Jones_ for Ten, and during the first chapter of the Philosopher's Stone for Harry. The actual story will be with Eleven during the final battle!

Enjoy!

~TheImmortalMarauder

* * *

Prologue:

The blue box crashed and hurled along the walls of the Time Vortex, spinning in a wild frenzy and toppling the man inside. The Doctor frantically pushed buttons and pulled levers in order to stabilise the TARDIS, but it was no use. He glanced at the screen above him, which was overflowing with coordinates, dates, names of planets and then – nothing. The endless shaking and rotating had stopped, but there was no familiar whoosh of the brakes to show that he had managed to land his ship. The Doctor stepped towards the doors of the TARDIS, and pressed his ear up against them. He heard a rumble – was it a carnivorous planet? Perhaps a shift in tectonic plates? But no, his feet remained firmly on the ground. _Hmm…_ he pondered, running through endless possibilities in his mind. _An exploding star? An electrical storm? A hungry Slitheen?_ The more he could think of, the louder the rumbling got. "Where have you taken me, old girl?" he said aloud to his most trusted companion, the one who would never leave him – the greatest vessel in the universe. However the TARDIS was no comfort to him now, as it had been shaken off of its course by some unknown force. _The force_, the Doctor concluded, _which has brought me here_. Whatever it was, it was something powerful enough to make the TARDIS lose control. "Well, I guess there's only one way to find out!" he exclaimed to thin air. "Allons-y!"

He was not expecting to see grass beneath his feet. He was not expecting to see rows of identical houses pressed up against a small road named Privet Drive, from what the sign read. And the Doctor was _certainly_ not expecting to see an old man dressed up as a wizard. Maybe it was Halloween? Hold on, this was Surrey! And in the eighties! Blimey! On Halloween! It was Earth all right – but not quite _his _Earth. There was something very different, something in the air felt a bit more… frazzled. It was the only way the Doctor could describe it – and he felt heavier, like the gravity here had changed. He let his senses take over, and noticed the bewildering electricity in the air came from around the cloaked man. Was he an alien? Listening closely, the Doctor heard a soft thumping sound;a human heart. If he was in disguise, it was very good as nothing was betraying a foreign identity. His senses heightened, he heard it again – the rumbling was still faint, but growing louder every second. There was no way to tell where it was coming from, but as ominous as it was, the Doctor didn't feel endangered. A cat scampered past his feet, unaware or too scared to acknowledge him. He took a closer look at the man, who had reached into his pocket and surfaced what appeared to be a lighter. When he clicked it – _pop! _The street lamp to his left went out.

That was odd. It must be some kind of remote, cutting off the transmission from the light source. But as the Doctor looked closer, he changed his theory. The light was going _into_ the device, meaning it was sucking the energy _from_ the source. However, that was very advanced technology for even the late twentieth century. As the man clicked away, all twelve lamps were drained of light, and the Doctor became more confused. _It's a great party trick, but no one's around to witness it. What was the man going to do with all that light energy? Where did he get the lighter? No, it wouldn't be called a lighter. The darker? _His brain furiously scraping around for answers, he barely registered the man speak.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

_Who is he talking to? Me? Am I Professor McGonagall? I hope not, that's a ridiculously pretentious name –_

Just as the Doctor was about to step forward into the man's field of view, the cat turned into a woman. The same cat that ran past him only a minute ago, but it wasn't a cat any more. There were no shape-shifters on Earth – none for three hundred thousand and seventy-two light years away! Or thereabouts. But he witnessed the cat just turn into a woman in a matter of milliseconds – that was impressive. She had managed clothes as well! The cat-woman was dressed up just as strangely as the man. What on Earth was going on?

The two people conversed in hushed tones and made their way towards one of the little houses. At the door, they both looked up towards the sky. The rumbling was growing steadily louder, and the Doctor saw, silhouetted against the sky, a giant man on a flying motorbike.

"Oh, what I would do to get me one of those," the Time Lord whispered, but he was confused as ever. Giants? They didn't exist. Large humanoid aliens, yes, but they wouldn't come into existence for another thousand years. The man landed with all the grace of a boulder, and lugged his huge weight off of the motorcycle and towards the two others, carrying what appeared to be a small bundle of rags. They were all conversing quietly now; the weirdly dressed, and now rather sad humans who baffled the Doctor to no end. Where did they get the technology to source-suck, shape-shift and get a bike to fly? Who were they? Was this some unknown branch of Torchwood? Should he go up and talk to them?

The giant-man let out a huge sniffle. They were crying; the little group had been brought to tears. They weren't the least bit concerned about the brilliant piece of flying transportation they had at their disposal – they weren't even looking at it anymore. It seemed to the Doctor as if the conversation was now revolving around the package, or whatever it was that Mr Gigantic had carried with him. It struck the Doctor that whatever it was, it must be very important. Honestly, who ignores a flying motorcycle? At that very moment, the party dispersed into the night. Big-man lumbered onto his bike, cat-woman promptly transformed into a cat and disappeared into the shadows. However the wizard withdrew a letter and placed it on the doorstep with the bundle. He then turned around and made his way back towards the clearing where the Doctor first spotted him. Taking out the darker/lighter, the lamps were all restored with just one click. The Doctor didn't understand – what had he just witnessed? An initiation? A blessing? A wedding, maybe? Highly unlikely, but –

The man was staring at him. His piercing blue eyes through his horn-rimmed glasses were looking right at him. Of course the Doctor was using the TARDIS key as an attempt at concealment, but this strange man saw right though his disguise. _Run, _he thought, _run and escape. The TARDIS is right here. He could be dangerous;_ but he let his more human nature take over. He felt that this man, whoever he was, was here to help. His odd lilac robes and his wrinkled face were not imposing, nor intimidating. For once, the Doctor knew for certain that he didn't have to run. This peculiar human was not a threat. He was not sure what to say, so neither running nor speaking, the Doctor stood dumbstruck. All he could do was hold this man's gaze – never wavering or faltering. A bond of trust passed wordlessly between them, through almost telepathic consent. Just as he thought he should speak, the human smiled and nodded kindly,

"I've been expecting you for quite some time, Doctor."

"I – what?" the Time Lord began. "Sorry, do I know you?"

"It was foretold that you would come." The man stepped closer to the Doctor. "But, forgive me. Where are my manners? Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, at your service."

"Foretold, you say?" The Doctor replied as he removed the key from around his neck. "I don't really believe in that sort of thing."  
"I know. You are a man of science, of which you have a wealth of knowledge. However, I am a man of magic."

The Doctor's thoughts sped up again. Concepts of real magic existing on his Earth had died out years ago. Anyone human he knew had condemned, banished, disproved or disagreed with witchcraft. The few that still held onto their beliefs were a dying breed, and most who did were no longer sane. However the Professor did not strike him as insane. He had seen many strange, out of character things in the nine minutes and twenty-two seconds he had been here. There was no Privet Drive in Surrey as far as he could remember. The frazzled air, the shift in gravity, the violent way he had arrived, ripped through the Vortex –

"Am I – am I in a parallel universe, Mr Dumbledore?" The Doctor couldn't fathom another reason for how this was happening.

"I believe that's what you call it, yes. Doctor, we will need your help. Someday, soon for you I suppose, we will need an aid for the little boy on that doorstep. You were summoned to be warned that you will be brought here again with out warning when we need you. There will be a war, and everyone here will be in danger. Legend speaks of you as a Healer of people, as well as a Soldier in combat. This boy; he has just lost his parents, and will especially need protection. I doubt I will see you again Doctor, but I wish you the best of luck on your travels." The old man turned around and began walking away.

"Professor! Professor Dumbledore! Wait!" he panted, running up beside his lecturer. "I don't understand. Who is this boy? How is my TARDIS still alive? Who are _you?_ How did I get here? What war?"

"All will be explained, in time." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You have plenty of that, don't you?" The Doctor slowed his pace.

"Yes, but I should warn you, Albus. Can I call you Albus?"

"Of course."

"I quite like the name Albus, by the way. Very vintage. Well, not as vintage as mine but –"

"You were warning me?" the Professor interrupted.

"Err, yes – you see, wars don't tend to turn out well when I'm in them. For either side." The Doctor shuffled his Converse amidst the almost-too-green-grass.

"Look over there at that house. Number four." Dumbledore pointed across the street from where they now stood. "That baby, just a year old, has diminished one of the greatest dark forces we have ever seen; something so evil, it has never felt love. He will one day finish this evil off for good, even before his eighteenth birthday. So Doctor, have faith in this boy – and even more importantly, have faith in yourself."

"You seem to have an awful lot of faith in your predictions, Professor," he said as he began making his way back to his TARDIS.

"Well, you're here; something even you thought impossible. If that's not a good prediction, then I have absolutely no idea what is." The Doctor chuckled.

"Quite right, Albus. So, what is it exactly you predict I will do, when I come back?"

"Do you know what? I haven't the foggiest. I guess you'll have to figure it out." The Professor winked at his companion. "Just remember the boy's name – Harry Potter. Goodnight Doctor," and he turned on the spot, vanishing with a loud _crack._

"Goodnight indeed." The Doctor stepped back into his blue box, shaking his head and laughing. "Magic, there's no such thing." With that, the TARDIS lurched of it's own accord and shot straight back into the Vortex.

* * *

**A/N:**

Thanks to the anon who pointed out my horrifically stupid mistake about Privet Drive!

Happy Reading [:

~tIM


	2. Chapter 1: Bad Timing

**A/N:** I should point out this is slightly AU, where there's no Harry Potter books in the Doctor's universe.

Other than that, happy reading!

~TheImmortalMarauder

* * *

The Doctor cried out, but no one was around to hear. His voice choked in his throat, and he pressed his hands to his temples. River had left the TARDIS mere moments previously with her vortex manipulator, off to have her own adventures. As much as they loved each other, two Time Lords was too many for one TARDIS.

Even after what had just happened.

Gone. Forever. The Ponds. _His_ Ponds. He had promised to keep them safe, and he had failed. He had failed River and Brian. He had failed Amy and Rory. Most importantly, he had failed himself.

He felt tears streaming down his face again. In one day, the Doctor found himself more emotionally vulnerable than he had been through his entire eleventh regeneration. He slumped to the floor, hearing the echo of his voice through the TARDIS. It sounded distorted, and got increasingly louder until it turned into a long string of words, a sentence he could barely make out:

"Don't be alone, Doctor".

He hardly noticed the TARDIS taking off, and it wasn't until gravity forced him to fly across the room did the Doctor register that he was once again flying through space and time with absolutely no control.

"No, no, no, no, no…. NO! Not now! Now is _not_ the time!" Sparks flew across the dials, whose needles spiralled in random directions. The screen flickered and began to list types of washing powder, the moons of Poosh, statements in the Shadow Proclamation, intergalactic bestsellers of the year 7813. The Doctor was hurled backwards, trying to grip onto anything within reach – and then the movement stopped. This time, the power in the TARDIS was noticeably weaker. Lights began to flicker, barely illuminating the way ahead towards the doors. The Doctor was tempted to just wait it out, wait to be taken home. However, he never could resist curiosity, even in the most desolate of situations.

"Go on then," he muttered, picking himself off from the ground and straightening his musty old jacket. "You don't want me to be alone? I won't." He pushed the door open and walked out into the blinding sunlight to find three teenagers menacingly pointing sticks at him.

"Who are you?" The Doctor turned to his left to see the girl who had spoken. She had a mass of brown curls on her head, and seemed wary of his presence, watching his every move. "Answer me!"

"I'm the Doctor," he announced boldly, but studying their defences. Though they were sticks, he had no idea what they would do when activated, so he played it safe by raising his hands above his head in surrender. "I'm not a threat, I promise."

"How can we trust him!?" the ginger boy to his right questioned, a tone of anxiety to his voice. "A Doctor? What's your name? Why are you here? Whose side are you on?"

"Side? Are we in a war of some sort?"

"Oh bloody hell, he's a nutter too!"

_"Ronald!"_

The girl and Ronald began talking in hushed tones, lowering their sticks and removing their attention from their 'threat'. However the black-haired boy in the middle remained intently focused on the Doctor, trying silently to answer the questions his friend had posed for himself. Was he reading his mind? _If you can hear me, wave your left hand! _The boy remained still. _Okay, not a mind reader. Phew._

"Hermione, he shows up in the middle of the forest in a blue police box. How did he get past your protective enchantments?" Ronald sounded less anxious and more perplexed with every passing minute.

"I'm sorry, protective _enchantments?_" the Doctor interjected. He was ignored.

"I… I don't know. That box… it just appeared. Materialised, but not really like Apparition. I've never seen that kind of magic before." The girl whispered in reply.

"Magic? Again? Is this some kind of cult?"

"He must be a Muggle."

"He can't be a Muggle, Muggles don't just appear out of nowhere."

"What is a Muggle, exactly?"

"See? I told you Hermione, he's a Muggle."

"He's not dressed much like a Muggle…"

"Oi! Is this about my bowtie!?"

"Enough!" The vigilant boy in the middle finally spoke. "Start from the beginning. Who are you?"

"I told you, I'm the Doctor," he calmly replied, used to the confusion.

"Doctor Who?"

"Just the Doctor."

"You don't have a name?" the boy wasn't sure whether this was good or bad.

"Not particularly… but I'm guessing you do. Is there any chance that yours is Harry Potter?" Hermione and Ronald grew tense, but Harry seemed somehow slightly more at ease; and as attentive as ever.

"How did you know?"

The Doctor let his hands drop slowly, and phrased as best he could the strange occurrences of that night in the other Surrey.

"I was told to look after you a long time ago by a man. He said that one day I would be brought to your aid, and that I would protect you." The Doctor paused, trying to put things into better perspective. "I didn't exactly volunteer for this job, but he said it was crucial that I help you. And, well, here I am."

"This man," Harry began, still pointing the stick. "What was his name?"

"I'm not quite sure anymore… it was something long. Albus something…"

The trio gawked at him. This reaction wasn't quite what he expected.

"Dumbledore?" the girl asked incredulously.

"Ah yes, that was it! Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Bradley… Bronfman… Braxton… err – something Dumbledore! A brilliant name; strange man, he had an odd sense of fashion but that's passed hopefully."

"Coming from you that's pretty rich!" Ronald chuckled.

"Hey! Bowties are cool!"

"Ron, he's honestly dressed a bit like your dad," observed Hermione.

"Yeah, but my dad's _allowed_ to dress like that. This one isn't."

"Ron, shut it," Harry turned to face his friend, assertively glared at him for a while, and then stepped forward. It seemed he trusted the Doctor the most out of the three. "How can we tell you're not lying?"

"Well quite frankly I'm not much good at lying, hard as I try. Look, Harry, I'm a long way from home and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. I'm here to help; I don't know how, but your friend the Professor seemed to know who I was, and wanted me to do something." The Doctor paused, trying to remember what the old man had said to him. "I – sorry, I have no idea what… he never mentioned any details specifically. He seemed pretty vague about the whole thing."

"Yeah, sounds like Dumbledore," Harry sighed, dejectedly looking down. "You'd better come with us back to the tent."

The party of four left the police box and walked diagonally through a clump of trees. It was quiet, until the ginger boy seemed to have a sudden epiphany.

"The doe! The doe; did you send it?"

"Sorry?"

"The Patronus! It was a doe. Was that you?" The others looked at the visitor expectantly.

"Err, no, I don't believe so."

"Oh." They continued for another minute or so, before he spoke again.

"You know, you could have picked a better time."

"Sorry?" the Doctor asked, taken aback by the statement. Hermione nudged Ron in the ribs so hard that he yelped in pain. The bespectacled boy explained.

"What he means is that we're on the run –"

"Harry!" the girl looked horrified.

"Dumbledore sent him here, so I trust him. Any objections?" the group fell silent, and all that could be heard was the crunching of shoes on the frostbitten grass. "Like I said, we're on the run. There's a wiz– I mean a man, and he has a lot of power; power he's using to murder innocent people. He's doing it in the name of… a kind of ethnic cleansing." The Doctor shook his head in disgust, and at the back of his mind he heard a voice; _something so evil, it has never felt love._ Hermione continued where the boy had left off.

"He's invincible to everything, except for Harry. No one really knows why, but Harry has defeated him four times, whereas most people are killed straight away. That's why he's trying to kill him."

"Wait, who's killing who?"

"Neither can live while the other survives; that's what the prophecy said," Ron answered solemnly. "One has to kill the other or this will never end."

"And your pal Dumbledore, why isn't he helping? Where is he?" queried the Doctor as he fiddled with his tie.

"Dead."

"Oh. That makes things more difficult."

Wordlessly, they made their way to a clearing, where sat a small, flimsy canvas tent.

"Well! Doesn't this look – cosy." The Doctor laughed nervously and glanced around at the teenagers, waiting for an explanation. "You live in _there_?" Harry pushed back the flaps of the tent, Hermione sighed and Ron poked him with his stick.

"Go on," he commanded. "After you."

"Seriously?" The Doctor was in no mood to be confined into a tight space, however the boy glared at him sternly and left him no other options. "Alright then, I'm going, I'm go–"

The Doctor entered.

"Would you look at that," he said in awe, turning around to marvel at the tent. "It's bigger on the inside."

* * *

**A/N:** I know that was a weird way to end the chapter, but i just _had_ to get that line in!

Anyway thanks for reading and review if you'd like!

~tIM


	3. Chapter 2: Strange Sticks

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter has taken so long! I had no idea where the plot was going but I think I found it again. Hopefully.

~tIM

* * *

"So these sticks – what are they made out of?" Ron groaned, thudding his head against the table in exhaustion and dismay. The three of them had spent the entire afternoon trying to explain to the Doctor their predicament, Voldemort's past, his Horcruxes, the Hallows, as well as the general idea of wizards and witches living hidden in society across the world. However, the foreign man had spent less time worrying about the imminent danger they were faced with, and more time trying to understand how magic worked. He was keenly studying Harry's borrowed blackthorn wand, trying to get it to work.

"Practically any type of wood. In the centre there's a core, though. The ones in our wands are phoenix feather, unicorn hair and dragon heartstring, except the phoenix one is broken. But Doctor, please can we get back onto the subject?"

"Phoenix? Unicorn? _Dragon?_"

"Doctor?" Hermione prompted. The trio were not amused.

"Sorry, yes. What were we talking about again?"

"Where we're going to look for the next Horcrux."

"Ah, yes, fascinating." The Doctor produced his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and tried to activate the wand using it.

"Woah! What it _that_?" Ron edged closer towards their visitor, trying to get a better look at the metal object.

"That is my sonic screwdriver. It's like your 'wand', but it uses sound waves. It can lock and unlock doors, hack into computers, change electrical circuits: lots of cool stuff. Now what I'm going to do is try to get some readings on your sticks." Ron looked sincerely confused, and turned towards Hermione for help.

"Muggle stuff," she said. Ron let out a small noise of understanding.

"Doctor, we haven't got time for this. If you're not going to help us, leave now," Harry huffed impatiently. The Doctor turned off his screwdriver and stuffed it back into the folds of his jacket.

"Sorry, that was rude of me. Though it looks like some kind of slightly neuro-isomorphic control, probably responding from DNA identification, which then activates a small generator and transmorpher (and a really powerful one at that) inside a filtered capacitating computer, which reacts to voice activation. Interesting that you chose Latin though; I love Latin. Now, after you've won against old He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, can I get one of these to dissect?" Ron looked again at Hermione.

"I have no idea," she muttered in reply to her friend's questioning gaze.

"Look, this is pointless. I'll take first watch, there's no reason for me to stay here." Harry left the table, and the others watched in silence as he left the tent and slumped onto the frosty ground outside.

"How is he?" asked the Doctor once Harry was out of earshot. Hermione shared a look of concern with Ron, and then hesitantly proceeded to answer their companion's question.

"We're not sure. He seems to be… fixated, on the Deathly Hallows – we mentioned them before. He thinks that they actually exist, and that Vol– that You-Know-Who is after them. He has visions; a kind of telepathic connection to You-Know-Who, and Harry thought he was looking for the Elder Wand. But their connection… it kind of broke after he saw –" Hermione paused, her words catching in her throat, and her voice dropping to barely a whisper, "After he saw You-Know-Who's memory of killing Harry's parents."

The Doctor was shocked. Cold-blooded murder was a very powerful thing to witness, even if you didn't know the people killed; but watching two people who meant the world to you die right before your eyes – the Time Lord vividly knew how that felt. He felt a shiver as the rawness of his emotions coursed through his body, reminding him of the pain that had started not even a day ago. He closed his eyes, and let the agonizing images slide past his eyes yet again.

"I should talk to him." The Doctor got out of his chair and began walking towards the entrance.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Ron half-asked, half-warned. The man turned around in front of the thin canvas wall separating him from the outside.

"I'm the Doctor – I fix people. At least, that's what I try to do. He's probably wanting his stick back, anyway." And with that, he stepped into the chilly air outside.

"Harry," he said as he exhaled, watching the steam of his breath curl up into little wispy clouds before his eyes, and sat down on a tree stump next to his newfound acquaintance. "We're not all that different, you know."

"Funny, we seem pretty different to me," he replied sarcastically.

"I mean it." He waited until Harry met his gaze and continued to speak. "We've both been on fantastic adventures – I can see it in your eyes, you've done incredible things. Funny, eyes betray a lot more about a person than one would think. But, I can see you've suffered a lot as well; neither of us have a real family, we're always in terrible danger and we – we lose people along the way." The Doctor felt another wave of anguish, and the holes in his two hearts gaped wider than ever before. "But you have a lot more power than you know, Harry Potter. You can do this. If you say you are the only one who can defeat this Dark Lord, this monster – you will be able to."

"I don't know that I can, though, Doctor." Harry fiddled with his stick, twirling it between his fingers. "Everyone's counting on _me_ to defeat him, but it's not been easy. How long until I find another Horcrux? By the time we do, You-Know-Who could have murdered all of England. I just…" he began, but never finished.

The Doctor lifted a hand and placed it on Harry's shoulder. "Your old pal Dumbledore believed in you. And clearly your friends do, too, because they wouldn't be here otherwise. Maybe you can't do this by yourself, Harry – but you are not alone. Your friends are your strongest power. Love is your weapon."

"That's what Dumbledore used to say."

"Is it? Well, great minds think alike," he smiled weakly. "Here, I'll take your watch, if you like."

"Thanks." The boy stood up and smoothed down his jeans. He was about to enter the tent again when he turned to look back at his visitor. "Are you okay, Doctor?"

The Doctor's smile disappeared for a brief moment, as he knew the worse of his pain was yet to come. Still he could not let the Potter boy down. "Everything's fine, Harry; go inside, get some rest. Oh and here's your stick." The Doctor threw it to him.

"Thanks. Maybe in the morning, if you feel like it, you can tell us your story."

"But what about the Horcruxes?"

"We should really take a break," Harry reasoned. "Ron and Hermione can't take much more, and we all need a bit of relief. Besides, we know next to nothing about you."

"Yes, well, that's how I tend to keep it…" the Doctor inaudibly muttered – but collecting his thoughts, he looked back up at his friend. "I look forward to it. Good night, Mr Potter, and can I say now that it is my honour to have met you." Harry nodded, went back inside the tent and the Doctor was left alone, and the Ponds haunted his mind's eye until the sun rose above the trees the next day.


	4. Chapter 3: A Message

The Doctor sipped his coffee reluctantly, as it was weak and bitter, but a source of heat nonetheless. He had barely slept after his long watch outside, but there were better things to be doing than sleeping at the moment.

"I need to get my TARDIS working again – is there any chance our good friend left a Horcrux in Cardiff?"

"A what?" Ron peered up confusedly.

"My big blue police box over there."

"What's that got to do with Cardiff?" Harry turned from washing their dismal array of dishes to look at the Doctor with interest.

"There's a rift in space and time – oh alright, for want of better a better word, some "magic" left there that my police box needs to in order to work." Ron's eyebrows raised. "Are we phoning the police?"

"No, Ron. It's not really a police box, is it?" Hermione directed her gaze towards their visitor, who nodded in response. "It's the Doctor's form of transport. Like Apparition, but in a box," she determined.

"Very clever you are, Hermione. You're completely right. Except for one thing."

"Oh? What else does it do?"

"It can travel through time."

A plate shattered. Everyone turned to look at Harry, who seemed not to have noticed the broken shards at his feet as he was still holding the tea towel up to where the plate would have been. His eyes were wide with shock, and his mouth was agape.

"Travel through time?" he managed, his voice vacant but his face stunned with disbelief.

"Harry are you okay? Here, let me help…" Hermione began clearing up the mess off the floor, but instead of assisting Harry took a seat closer to the Doctor. "Yes, TARDIS stands for time and relative dimension in space. It's an ancronym." He smiled.

"How fast is it?"

"Much faster than those Time-Turner things you were talking about, if that's what you mean," the Doctor replied, taken aback. "Why?"

"Don't you see? This is _exactly_ what we have been looking for. If we can get far enough in the past, we can learn where You-Know-Who hid his Horcruxes and come back here to destroy them. That way it doesn't mess up the whole time continuum thing – and we'll get a one-up on him."

"That's brilliant mate," Ron exhaled. "Better still, we can just kill the bugger before he becomes a murderous nut-case."

"For goodness sakes, Ronald." Hermione placed the newly repaired plate back on the table and sat down with them. "You _know_ we can't do that."

"Yeah, but it's a nice thought."

"Yes, well this is all very exciting isn't it? Except that my machine is dying, and we need to get it to Cardiff. I'm not even entirely sure that it will work here, but I'd like to have it running, seeing as it is the only way I have to get - well, close to home. Do you think we can manage that?" the Doctor huffed impatiently. Harry was quick to respond.

"Why don't we have a look at it? I'm sure Hermione might be able to help."

"Yes, maybe. Anyway it'd be fascinating to see an _actual_ time machine. I thought they were just made up in stories."

"Well, all stories have got to come from somewhere," stated the Time Lord, draining the last of the liquid from his mug. "I'm not sure if your technology is compatible, but it's worth a try." Hermione frowned at the Doctor's last sentence, but as everyone was getting up to leave the table she merely shrugged it off. The troop meandered over to the edge of the trees, chatting aimlessly until they reached the extent of the protective enchantments. "So," Ron said, looking around at their companion expectantly. "Where is it?"

The Doctor stopped dead in his tracks. The TARDIS was there just yesterday; and he was fairly sure he was the only one on this planet who knew how to operate it. So where had it gone?

"I – I –" he stammered. "I don't know! It was here right where I'm standing!" The trio shared a look of concern between themselves, and glanced back at the Doctor questioningly. _How did we not hear it leave?_ he thought. I_t's too heavy to move on foot, and it doesn't just fly off on it's – oh._ He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the TARDIS silently landing behind Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Found it," he grinned.

They whipped around to see the blue box standing in what moments before had been a clump of bushes. "Does it do that often?" Ron inquired. "Disappear and go for a walk when it feels like it?"

"Of course not, don't be daft." The Doctor strode forward. "In the future – or the past, I've left a message for myself here by transporting it from this time to another. I would use a signal, but this universe doesn't have that type of technology. So who better to call than my old girl?"

"But it didn't make a sound," Harry remarked. "When it first arrived it was so loud we thought we were being attacked."

"Oh, yes, well; I left the brakes on. A thousand year-old habit, you know. Apologies." He pushed open the doors and stood back to give his companions a good look inside. "Now, gentlemen and lady, welcome to the greatest ship in existence."

"Hello, sexy," he whispered inaudibly but endearingly upon entering. The wizards strolled in, mildly surprised but not reacting the way most people would. True – the power was out and the cavernous room was freezing, that made it significantly less impressive – but the trio were fairly unfazed by the "bigger on the inside" aspects. Instead, they were interested in the control panel. Perhaps a little _too_ interested.

"What's this do then?" Ron probed one of the levers with his wand.

"Oh no no – don't touch that one. That activates the chameleon circuit."

"Ouch!"

"Hermione, please do try to avoid those wires."

"Sorry."

Everything felt a bit out of place and overcrowded, even though the TARDIS was meant to be controlled by six pilots; no one really fit properly.

"So? What does everyone think?"

"It's brilliant," Ron stated, fiddling with the navigational buttons. "Like one of those Muggle cartoons you see, except it actually works."

"Do you think you can transport it?" the Doctor turned to Hermione.

"I'm not quite sure. There must be dozens of undetectable extension charms in here, and moving it with other magic could quite possibly destroy them." He winced at the mention of magic, but ignoring it for the time being he directed his attention to their remaining friend, who had been quietly concentrated on something else for a while now.

"And you, Harry?"

"I think you ought to see this, Doctor."

He realised that Harry had been staring at the control screen for almost the entire time they had been back in his TARDIS. He stood next to the boy, looking up at the monitor and pulling it over into a better angle. As he read the flickering words, a dead weight dropped in his chest. This was more than just another message left in his own kind stead – this was a warning. His eyes grew wide and his hearts beat rapidly as he read the four words;

BEWARE OF THESE ANGELS

* * *

**A/N:**

Sorry this chapter is so short - but there you go, a nice cliff hanger for you. Not sure when i can next update as I'm moving house and might not have internet for a while ]: But thanks so much for your reviews and follows - I really could not be more grateful.

~tIM


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